


The Publisher

by dechagny



Series: but no ghost looms; [2]
Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Comfort, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Same Scenario Different Time Settings, Short & Sweet, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dechagny/pseuds/dechagny
Relationships: Isabelle Higham/Thomas Thorne
Series: but no ghost looms; [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038219
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. 2020

With trembling hands, Thomas clicked on the email. His breath was caught in his throat which made the laborious loading screen of his laptop all the more frustrating. He couldn’t breathe until he knew what this email said. This _had_ to be the one this time.

Isabelle was just as quiet as she sat opposite him, her thumbnail stuck firmly between her flushed lips and pearl teeth. She felt like a leaf in the wind and could barely stand to think what Thomas might be feeling. “Well?” she whispered. “Any luck?”

Taking a deep breath, Thomas glanced up at her - his face gaunter and deeper in shadow than usual. “Another rejection,” he said despondently. “Why does no-one appreciate my verse?”

Wilting like a neglected flower, Isabelle shook her head and came to sit at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. She pressed a delicate kiss to his temple as she ran her fingers through his soft, wild curls. “I appreciate it, my love, and they’ll come to recognise you one day.”

Thomas pulled on a smile and gently took her hand in his, caressing her with all the reverence of a priest holding a relic. “Yes, you’re my one constant, my evening star.” He lightly kissed her fingers and then her wrist. The scent of violets and sugar emanated from her skin.

“We can try another publisher,” she said brightly. “And there’s still more responses to come, isn’t there? We won’t give up.”

“You’re right,” Thomas said, smiling half-heartedly. “But I think I will allow myself to wallow for the rest of the day.”

Isabelle laughed if only to try and cheer him up. She hated it when the spark fell from his eyes…but at least she knew it would re-ignite and burn brighter than before. “Wine, ice cream, and a Bridget Jones marathon?”

A loud crick echoed around the living room as Thomas snapped his head up, his smile now a shade away from being genuine. “Thank you, angel. You always know how to make feel better."


	2. 1820

The knock at the door made Isabelle jump up from Thomas' lap, smoothing out her bodice and skirts as she did. The messenger had the good grace to pretend not to see her tucking a curl of her chestnut hair back into place.

"A message, my lady, for Thomas Thorne," he said, proferring the envelope to her between his fingers. Once she had taken it, he bobbed a bow and promptly left, pointedly leaving the door open a crack.

Thomas had risen from the chair, his cheeks still flushed. "A message for me?"

"Were you expecting a note?" she asked, handing it to him with a bemused smile. "Do you recognise the hand?"

Everything about Thomas brightened as he eagerly grasped the letter, his eyes and heart growing hungry at the unfamiliar, and yet, unmistakable lettering. "Oh, my heart!"

"What is it, my love?"

He looked at her in a glittering daze, his heart hammering beneath his chest. It was so loud, he was sure that she could hear it, and perhaps even the lurking messenger could too. "It is our dreams coming true!"

It was Isabelle's turn to glow, and Thomas marvelled at how lucky he was to have her, and not for the first time that day.

"A publisher?!" she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her breast. "They have bought your manuscript at last?"

"I believe so," he said, his face split in two by the over-reaching grin. He kissed the envelope and then her, intoxicated with joy and scent of rosewater on her delicate skin. They giggled like school children when they parted.

"My darling, we can have a life in the country as we dreamed!" He turned tender, gently caressing her warm cheek. "We can have the wedding you deserve."

Quite unable to contain herself, Isabelle sank into the velvet armchair, gripping the arms to steady herself. "Open it! I can barely stand to wait any longer!"

Thomas nodded and opened it clumsily, almost ripping the letter itself in the process. He scanned the words once, twice, three times - the colour draining from his face. That heart which was so alive a mere moment ago had been crushed into dust. He threw the letter to the ground.

"They passed," he announced. His throat felt as though someone had clasped a hand around it. "They said it wasn't right for them. It is not to be," he said, falling dramatically beside Isabelle.

They let the silence grow as they both digested the news - an all too common habit they somehow never got easier.

"I'm so sorry, my darling," she said, holding his arm and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"Why does no-one appreciate my verse?"

"I do," she assured him, raising her chin in defiance of every publisher who dared to crush her love's spirit. "If I could, I'd set up a publishing house of my own for your work."

Thomas nodded, painting on a bitter smile. "That would be quite something..." he allowed himself to be enveloped by Isabelle's comforting embrace, and let his eyes flutter closed as she stroked his hair with a soothing hand. "You have always been my biggest fan and my most precious muse."

Pressing a kiss to his temple, she could feel the tension slowly beginning to unfurl in his body. "We will try again, and we will keep trying until we find someone worthy of you."

"Everyone is worthy of me," Thomas insisted. "But I don't understand how you let me become worthy of you." He took her hands in his, kissing each finger as though they were precious jewels.

"You're talking such nonsense," she laughed. "I will fetch you some wine to steady your nerves."

He nodded and pressed himself as close to her as was appropriate with someone spying on them, his misty eyes glancing towards the door. "In a moment," he implored. "You have such a way with me, Isabelle. You know how to calm the raging waters of my despair."

"It is easier to control tides when you love someone," she said carefully, pressing her lips to his face again. "Love makes a person do unimaginable and impossible things, doesn't it?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This drabble was written as a request on Tumblr. You can find me and this work under user @annaobyrne.  
> If you want to request an AU drabble/one-shot, please leave me a message and I'll get back to you, though it may take a few days.
> 
> You can also find me on Twitter: @bethany1marie.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!


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